


Unrequited

by JulianGreystoke



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Crush, Cullen/Adaar Inquisitor, Elf/Dwarf, F/M, Fluff, Illustrator, Myfanwy - Freeform, Romance, Spirit Cole, The New Ways of Old Gods, Unrequited Love, Writer, companion - Freeform, implied Cullen/Astlyr, implied Dorian/Titus, may continue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 21:35:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7591288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulianGreystoke/pseuds/JulianGreystoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This short story is a companion to 'The New Ways of Old Gods'.  The story will make considerably more sense if you have read TNWoOG before reading this, as many of the principal characters and relationships in this story come from that one.</p><p>Myfanwy has settled in at Skyhold after the war of the Elvhen Gods is over.  Spring has come to the fortress, and with it, a budding romance?  Or perhaps that is all in her head as she cannot seem to get her best friend and mentor, Varric, to notice her at all.  Cole tries to lend a hand, but are his efforts in vain?  Can the dwarf ever have eyes for anyone but Bianca?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unrequited

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by this song (just replace the world 'he' with 'she') https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HKW0uelA6Dw
> 
> This story should NOT be considered canon for the Old Gods universe. It's more of a what-if story. I may decide to make it canon later, but I have not cemented in my head the true relationship between Myfanwy and Varric, or even what Myfanwy's actual sexuality is.
> 
> Everything else in this tale can be considered canon, however, just not the budding romance!

Unrequited

Myfanwy chuckled as she looked up from her sketch pad.

The late spring sun was shining across Skyhold and chasing away the last of the stubborn winter snow from the wall shadows. The people of Skyhold were using the fine weather as an excuse to be out taking the air and enjoying the day. Some, like their fearless leader, Astlyr Adaar, were utilizing the practice yard. Myfanwy could hear the qunari terrorizing the new guards she was training, even as Commander Cullen tried to simultaneously help his lover with her task and keep the younger humans from becoming too spooked. Occasionally the firm yet pleasant voice of Guard Captain Jones would also chime in to chide some hapless recruit.

Myfany turned her attention back to her sketch. She was sitting in the sunshine beside the stable in the stubbly grass which could be found in patches all over Skyhold's courtyard. A modern fortress would discourage the plant life, but Skyhold was its own entity all together. Myfanwy's arched brows came together slightly as he studied her latest drawing. The elf was trying to capture a horse in motion. She'd sought out the stables on that fine morning because Dorian was getting a riding lesson Titus which she could observe. “Can you get the horse to canter again?” Myfanwy asked, touching her charcoal to her lips.

“We're not doing this for your benefit you know.” grumbled Dorian as he stood up from the ground where he had recently landed, having fallen from his mount, a gentle, bay charger named Dandy.

“I almost had the legs right,” Myfanwy pleaded. Normally she might have kept quiet and not bothered to voice her concerns to the men as they worked, but she wanted to finish an illustration and the horse was the only thing causing her difficulty. Her picture was actually of Lady Astlyr riding out of Skyhold, arm outstretched before her, anchor aglow fit to obliterate any foe foolish enough to cross her. Myfany had captured the armored qunari standing forward in the stirrups looking exceedingly warlike and inspiring at the same time. She'd managed the horse's head and neck drawn to her satisfaction and the fact that she couldn't get the animal's limbs in motion was driving her crazy. “Please?”

“You can't get the legs? Dandy's almost completely made of legs,” Grouched Dorian, trying in vain to brush all the mud and dirt from his fine clothes.

“I told you not to wear your robes for horseback riding.” Titus spoke up. He was standing with Dandy's coiled lunge line in one hand and trying to hide his own grin. “Dandy can't help it if he has long legs no more than you can help being so devilishly handsome.”

Myfanwy smiled, her eyes sparkling, but hid it behind her sketch. As much as Dorian might boast and act flustered, Titus had the man wrapped around his little finger. There was nothing that worked better to calm the mage than his lover complimenting his good looks.

Dorian straightened up, cutting a resplendent figure even with the mud and grass stains, not to mention horse fur. Pride restored to the pedestal on which he kept it, Dorian led Dandy back to the mounting block and hopped on. Titus was attempting to teach Dorian to ride bareback, which was a challenge indeed, as Myfanwy knew the mage had no great skill at riding, even with a saddle. She supposed she should not comment, as she too was still getting used to horses. Before she had come to Skyhold all she had ever ridden was Halla.

As Titus got the tall horse moving in a circle again, shouting instructions to the uneasy Dorian all the while, Myfanwy took up her pencil once more and rapidly sketched on the margins of her page before she tried to capture the legs again in the illustration.

“Hello.”

Myfanwy dropped her charcoal as a faint squeak of surprise left her. She spun and almost squeaked again. Cole was sitting, cross legged, in the grass just beside her as if he had been invited to join her. His hat was low over his pale face and she couldn't even make out his eyes, but his slim hands fidgeted, ever busy. “Cole,” Myfanwy said, trying to keep her voice to going high with surprise, “you startled me.”

“Astlyr said that if I said 'hello' I wouldn't frighten people as much,” Cole mumbled, tilting his head up slightly so Myfanwy could see his thin lips and weak chin.

Her hands itched for a fresh piece of paper. Cole was an illusive figure in her illustrations. Partly because she was still, as ashamed as she was to admit it, unnerved by the spirit boy; and in part because she could never seem to capture his likeness after the fact. “Your hands don't remember.” Cole said.

“What?” Myfanwy tipped her head, brown curls falling over her shoulder. She brushed them back with annoyance. She should have put her hair in a tie that morning, but she had been so eager to get her illustrations finished.

“You remember me,” Cole said, by way of explanation, “but your hands don't. Your hands remember horses and people and sometimes flowers or buildings, but never me.”

“I... I'm sorry?” Myfanwy said, uncertainly, squinting at the boy and half wishing it wouldn't be rude to scoot it bit farther away from him.

“I'm not.” Cole shrugged. “You see me. Most people see me. Astlyr says I should let them. They want to look through but I can make them see. Sunlight on water their eyes want to catch. Not a shadow, shuddering, shaken. I'm too bright now.”

“Alright...” Myfanwy said, eying Cole uncertainly and wondering how Astlyr ever managed to make any sense of the boy.

Cole vanished in a puff of cold air and Myfanwy had to stifle another gasp. She supposed he had grown tired of her, or sensed her inward desire to be away from him. She wasn't proud of the feeling, and hoped he had not left on that account. Then, before she could even turn back to her drawing, he had returned. Once again appearing from the air. Myfanwy had seen him do this countless times in battle, and it still amazed her.

Cole held something out to her. It took Myfanwy's baffled mind a moment to realize that it was more paper and three fresh sticks of charcoal. Her lips quirked into a smile she did not often have for the spirit boy. “You can't capture the light by remembering,” Cole said, pressing the paper into her hands. “Draw it now.”

“Oh. Right,” Myfanwy said, settling the new pages on the board she had balanced across her knees. It was like Lady Josephine's writing board only larger, good for sketching. She angled herself so she was no longer facing the two men and their horses and faced Cole instead. Her hand moved almost of its own accord as she swiped her charcoal across the paper, capturing the broad strokes of Cole's lines. He kept still enough for the most part, save his hands, which worked busily together, sometimes plucking at the grass, sometimes fiddling with a loose stitch on his perpetually tatty clothing. He even tilted his head up so Myfanwy could get his face. She drew quickly. Several studies for later. Perhaps if she had images of him she could copy from it would be easier. She noted with interest that there were still flecks of green in Cole's pale blue eyes. They had appeared sometime after the Battle of Skyhold late the previous winter.

“Er, excuse me.” Dorian's voice distracted Myfanwy and she looked up from her rushed drawing. “You just asked me to canter this confounded beast for you and now you're not even paying attention? Here I am looking magnificent and there's no one to appreciate it.”

“I appreciate it.” Titus coiled the lunge line until he was standing before Dorian's horse. He took his lover's hand and kissed it with a flourish.

“Hmph,” Dorian grumbled, but his accustomed grin was shining from under his immaculate mustache.

Myfanwy watched the pair as they flirted and Dorian even managed to bend down for a kiss on the lips without falling off the horse. She knew she was blushing faintly. It was always strange to watch people be romantic in public. Like maybe she should look away.

“The night sky and the moon.” And then there was Cole. Myfany flicked her eyes back to him and saw that he too was watching the men.

“Hmm?” Myfanwy asked before she could stop herself. She didn't fancy the idea of the spirit sharing every tiny detail of Dorian and Titus's romantic life with her. Astlyr might feel comfortable kindly correcting her young friend, but Myfanwy did not.

“The night sky is bright and beautiful without the moon, but with it, there is so much more light. Silver and velvet blue.”

Myfanwy found that she agreed wholeheartedly with Cole for once. They were a good pair. Dorian, flamboyant and bright, like glittering stars, forever in the sky, impossible to miss, and then Titus. Taken for granted, perhaps, but no less bright. Together they completed the picture.

“I can feel it, sometimes.” Cole said, turning back to Myfanwy. “Ever since Astlyr and I became... more... I can feel the happiness sometimes, as well as the pain. Not as strong. It doesn't pull me because it doesn't need me, but I can feel it. Edging in at the corners. A silent song that longs to be heard.”

Myfanwy decided not to ask how much of someone's 'love' the otherworldly boy could sense. She didn't need those details in her life. “Cole?” She asked instead, turning back to her drawing and hastily sketching his hat, then going over the lighter lines to get the details right. “Have you ever felt that way about anyone?” She tilted her head briefly towards the men, who were still laughing and having a grand time.

“No.”

Occasionally the youth was known to give short answers, Myfanwy noted. Still, she was interested. “So, not even once? You never felt that kind of love towards anyone? Man, woman, anyone?”

“No.” Cole's answer wasn't angry or short tempered, simply a statement of fact with no harshness attached. “Not that kind.”

“I've heard there are people who never feel that way about anyone until they find exactly the right person. Then they fall in love,” Myfanwy said absently, trying to get the curve of Cole's chin right. There was a small flaw in the bone causing an unnatural indent. Perhaps his jaw had been broken at some point.

“Like Varric?” Cole asked. His eyes were storm grey with shards of emerald and they watched her as though they knew her very soul to its roots. Suddenly Myfanwy felt deeply uncomfortable.

“Mmm?” She kept her head down, focusing back on her drawing of Cole's hat, even though it was finished.

“He loves Bianca. Person and weapon. Bianca made Bianca.” Cole said, looking down at last and fiddling with the hem of his pants. “She's a point of bright pain in an endless sea. She stabs him and reminds him he's breathing. Sometimes he forgets.”

“Does she?” Myfanwy asked, feeling a creeping cloud come over her. Almost as though the sunlight were being blotted out, though it shone on as cheery as ever over Skyhold.

“Sera loves other women. Dorian loves other men. Iron Bull loved... everyone. You're like Cullen was, before.” Cole said.

Myfanwy winced even as her mouth formed the ill fated words, “like Cullen?”

“Cullen loved Astlyr, for a long time. He wasn't certain how he loved her, but he did. Fumbling in darkness, afraid and drawn forward by her.”

“Astlyr and Cullen are together now,” Myfanwy said tentatively, uncertain where Cole was going with this, but feeling tense. Her hand had stopped moving across the page, sketch-Cole's chin still unfinished.

“The shields lock together, lost in the battle and he looks to his left and sees her. Before there was emptiness at his side; now there's a mountain, immovable.”

“Cullen certainly seems happy,” Myfanwy agreed. She heard a loud 'clang' from the practice yard, the yelp of a recruit, and Cullen's kind laughter. Myfanwy could picture him picking up another befuddled soldier who had thought he could stand a shield charge of the qunari warrior woman.

“You want to be happy too.” Cole pointed out.

“I... I am happy,” Myfanwy flicked her charcoal across the page absently, startled when she realized that she had captured the curve of Cole's back perfectly. Hurriedly she added more lines, pleased with how the picture was shaping up.

“Eyes like amber she's watchful. He calls me 'Puppy' because I followed a wolf. His smile is sunrise, but he remembers the night, and I wish he'd look at me the way he looked at her.”

Myfanwy's head snapped up, her dark eyes narrowing. Cole had spoken quickly, a little breathlessly, as he did when he was reading people's pain. Astlyr might not mind the intrusion. In fact, Myfanwy thought the Inquisitor actually found it endearing, but Myfanwy didn't like having her private thoughts invaded.

“I'm sorry,” Cole mumbled, wringing his hands. “I'm supposed to keep it inside, but sometimes-”

“It's fine,” Myfanwy snapped, her charcoal lines becoming thicker as she pressed against the paper with frustrated flicks of her wrist. “Just... stay out of there.”

“Sorry.”

She wanted to scold him again, or tell him to 'hush', but changed her mind. He did looked ashamed, and he was still sitting for her to draw. This last attempt to capture his image was shaping up well. Part of her wondered if his reading her pain had somehow cemented him into her mind for a moment. Lodged like a splinter. After a stretch of silence from both herself and the spirit boy, punctuated only by Titus and Dorian's pleasant chatter and occasional sounds from the practice yard, Myfanwy looked up again, comparing her drawing to the figure before her. She grinned. “I think I have it this time.”

“Good,” Cole's mouth flicked into the briefest smile, which only manage to look slightly alarming. Like the smile of someone uncertain if they were about to either praise you or skin you. She'd seen what Cole could do in battle and couldn't reconcile that with the youth sitting cross-legged before her, pale eyes wide and expression somber.

“Er, thanks for sitting for me, Cole.”

“You're welcome. Do you want to draw more?”

“No, I think I have enough for now, though maybe if it's alright, I'll have to sit for me again.”

“I like sitting with you.” Cole said and Myfanwy cocked an eyebrow. “Your pain is quiet. It doesn't wail or shout or demand. It sits, silent and still, present, but passing. You have as much reason to be sad as everyone else, but you're not, mostly.”

“I suppose things are going well these days,” Mayfanwy admitted, setting side the paper which was covered thickly with numerous sketches of the spirit boy. “With Fen'Harel finally settling into his role and Skyhold at peace, I think I found my place.”

“You like soft beds and meals you don't have to cook yourself.” Cole agreed, standing up with an abruptness that wasn't quite human.

“Cole,” Myfanwy had a sudden thought and didn't seem able to contain them when faced with the spirit of Compassion. The behatted youth hesitated, tilting his head towards her, though not looking at her. “Do you know... do you know what Varric thinks of me?”

Cole seemed to consider, his body tense, as if she had caught and held him moments before he was about to vanish. His lips twitched fractionally as though he was uttering silent words. Myfanwy wished she could lean in and put her ear to his mouth but also had no desire to be closer to him. She knew his skin was unnaturally cold, and he generally made her shiver to be near. Finally Cole met her eyes again, “I shouldn't.”

“You shouldn't?”

“He's confused. You're not what he wants, but you are. He loves the mind, sees the brightness behind the face or the body. He can see your brightness shining and he wants to watch over you and protect you.”

Myfanwy scoffed, “He's seen me in combat, I don't need protection.”

“No. Not in fights. Though he likes to watch you win fights. The world hasn't ruined you. He thinks he's ruined, tattered, broken in places. The sail of an old ship, left unfurled against the storm. Patched, repatched, falling away.”

“He's not broken,” Myfanwy said, once again her words falling from her lips before she took her customary time to think them through. She bit down on her bottom lip and vowed not to say anything else.

“I know.” Cole said and vanished in a puff of cold air.

Feeling flustered and befuddled Myfanwy collected her art supplies and retreated from the sunlight into the cool corridors of Skyhold. Once she had had a small room beside the one which Fen'Harel had occupied. Now, as he was so often down in the eleven city, New Elvhenan, which was gaining footing below the fortress's watchful eye, Myfany had been given new quarters. These were right beside Varric's. It made sense these days, as the pair was almost always collaborating. After the war ended the prolific dwarf and been writing like mad, chronicling their adventures with the elven gods and also pecking away at a romance serial which he had recently revived in honor of a lost friend.

Myfanwy opened Varric's door without thinking. She was so used to coming to his rooms when she was finished drawing for the day to show him her newest illustrations and ask for feedback. As she swung the door open she stopped for a long moment, blinking, her thoughts having been mired deep in contemplations of her conversation with Cole.

“Puppy! Come on! I have good news!” Varric was seated behind his desk at the other end of the room. The desk and any surrounding surfaces including small couch and bed were littered with papers. The walls of Varric's living space were covered in pages of notes, outlines, journal entries, and of course Myfanwy's concepts and sketches.

The sound of Varric's cheerful tone drew Myfanwy into the room at once. He might as well have taken her hand and ushered her inside. She came to stand beside him and he showed her a letter, seal freshly broken. “This is from my editor. I sent her the latest version of chapters one through ten and she loved the inclusion of your art. She wants to meet you! I had plans to travel to Orlais later this week.”

Myfanwy's heart gave an excited flip and she forgot all about her considerations of moments before. “Really? They liked my drawings?!”

He picked up the letter, putting his finger to a paragraph. “Her exacts words are: The well executed illustrations bring a new life to your words that I never expected. I am highly interested in meeting this young talent you have discovered, Tethras.”

Myfanwy had to struggle to contain a high pitched sound from rising to her lips. “Do you suppose she'll want me to do other books as well? Of course I'd give priority to yours.”

“You had better!” Varric was grinning. His smile, weather-worn and true, never failed to make Myfanwy feel a deep sense of joy. She loved the way it wrinkled the corners of his eyes, creasing the ever present laugh-lines even deeper. “Better pack your nice clothes, Puppy, because we're going to Orlais!”

Myfanwy allowed herself to be swept up in Varric's excitement and forget about her conversation with Cole. To a point.

She followed her friend down to the tavern that evening for a night with friends. Myfanwy found herself entrapped in a game of Wicked Grace, at which she was not very good, but kept her head down for the most part and thus didn't lose terribly. Instead she watched her friends. Cullen, as always, grew more confident the more ale he imbibed and his skill at the game dropped proportionally. Varric and Josephine always took advantage of this and one of them almost always won the game. Eventually the game devolved into story telling and before long the tales of everyone's exploits were being shared. If it were any other group Myfanwy would have been disinclined to believe a single thing she heard, but with this collection of heroes, she knew every adventure was true. She'd even been there for some of them.

Varric was, naturally, the best story teller. Soon everyone else fell silent as he recounted one of the heists he pulled with a man named Hawke. An individual of dubious morals who eventually became a hero in Kirkwall. Naturally, Myfanwy had never been to Krikwall, but Varric's confident, steady voice fleshed out each detail perfectly until she could imagine every smokey street and bloodstained alley.

As the story went on Myfanwy stopped paying attention to the words and instead simply enjoyed Varric's voice. He had a husky, soothing cadence to the way he spoke. Even when he added quips and sarcastic remarks she still found it pleasant. Her eyes grew heavy and she let the sound of his voice lull her into a quiet stupor. Her mind drifted to days of adventure and responsibility which she no longer had to endure. Her mind followed Varric's voice across wild, grey seas and through craggy coasts to caves where dragons and rebel mages waited. Her head slipped from her hands and onto the table.

“Puppy?”

“Mmmm?” Myfanwy blinked and lifted her head. Her cheek was sore from resting against the hard wood table. Swiping sleep from her eyes she looked around the dimly lit tavern. A few friends remained, but they had wandered off to different areas of the room. She spotted Crem sitting beside the bard before the large fire. The woman seemed to be showing the new leader of the Changers a few chords, and for his part Crem looked thoroughly engaged. Bringing her head slowly around Myfanwy took in Astlyr, Cullen and Dorian sitting together at a darkened table, deep in conversation as well. Titus must have gone to bed already. Finally Myfanwy titled her chin up to Varric. His expression was warm.

“Are you ready to turn in?” The handsome dwarf asked, extending a hand.

Myfanwy slid hers into his without a thought. His hands were pleasantly rough with old callouses and smudged with ink. She allowed herself to be helped to her feet like a fine lady, even managing to slide her chair back with passing grace. Her heart sank when Varric let her hand drop as soon as she was on her feet. She wished he would put out his arm and she could set her hand on it so they could walk together back to their rooms. Instead Varric made for the door, more guiding the way than walking with her.

As the pair stepped out into the late spring night Myfanwy tilted her head back and caught sight of a bat flitting past the half moon. The banners fluttered lazily in the cool breeze. Myfanwy watched Varric's back for a moment, a scowl twisting her face. On a whim she bounced forward so she was beside him, wrapping her arms around herself she glanced sideways down at the dwarf. He too was scanning the courtyard with a certain fondness, like a farmer surveying his well planted field. “Want to... want to walk the wall?” Myfanwy asked. “Before we turn in?”

“Alright,” Varric said, gratifyingly.

They stopped at the top of the wall stairs and stood, side by side, looking down at the elven city below Skyhold in the valley formed by two mountains. New Elvhenan glowed faintly with torchlight. Skyhold itself was bathed in a cool, flickering illumination provided by witchlight. The mages tended to it, and it was far less likely to start an unwanted fire.

“I'm excited to see Skyhold in summer.” Myfanwy said, awkwardly. She was aware that all it would take would be the slight motion of her hip and she would be touching him. She didn't move.

“I've been here in autumn and it is beautiful. Up here in the mountains though, it's winter more often than not,” the dwarf commented, turning to rest his back against the stone and look towards Skyhold's main keep with the mage tower standing tall beside it. The tower windows were alight as the students within studied late.

Myfanwy shivered as a strange breeze ruffled her tunic and Varric's head snapped to the right. He reached for something and made an amused grunt, bending down to pick it up. He turned back to Myfanwy and held an object up to her. “Look at this. I suppose Cole's just been here.”

Myfanwy felt a blush creep up to her pale cheeks as Varric extended a plump, white clover flower towards her. The clover grew all over the open field at the other side of Skyhold's bridge so that it looked like a fresh dusting of snow covered the verdant valley. She was glad that the nearest torch was behind her so that her face must be in shadow and Varric couldn't see her cheeks redden. Had Cole dropped off the flower? Had he sensed that Varric wanted to give her a gift, or that she longed to receive one? Or had he simply been trying to make them both smile?

Myfanwy cleared her throat, deciding she ought to say something. “I always loved clover when I was young. I'd sit in the field with the halla as they ate. Did you know that you can eat clover blossoms too?”

“I may be a city dwarf, but I have learned a thing or two about foraging in my time,” Varric twitched his brow in a sassy expression. He gestured to Myfanwy to come closer, and she bent slightly so he could reach up and nest the flower into her thick curls. Now she was doubly glad he couldn't see her blush more furiously than before. “There we are. A far better use for a flower than to eat it.” He smiled and Myfanwy felt her heart flutter. But then he had turned away from her again and was scanning Skyhold once more.

The pair made shallow conversation as they stood a while longer on the wall, enjoying the pleasant night air and one another's company. Normally Myfanwy might have been contented with this companionable chatter, but instead she found herself wishing Varric had caressed her cheek when he had slipped the flower into her hair. Varric was always courteous to ladies. She'd even seen him attempting to be courtly with Astlyr, which was amusing to watch. Even though she was his partner more than ever these days, he always remembered to treat her as though she were special. She only wished he treated her with a different kindness than he did everyone else.

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea if I will continue this one. I wrote it on a whim, so I will continue if the mood strikes, or if somehow it turns out to be popular. ;)


End file.
